


Sticks and Stones

by Vivien_Taylor



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Eventual Romance, Fluff and Humor, Mpreg, Thorinduil - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2018-11-06 16:59:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11040411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivien_Taylor/pseuds/Vivien_Taylor
Summary: After a one night stand Thorin and Thranduil must decide how they will raise a child together.





	1. Unintended

2 months

"Oh..."

"Oh?"

"...."

"Just oh?" Thranduil mused lightly, " Nothing witty? No caustic remark on my behalf?"

The dwarf furrowed his brow, unable to focus on what the blond was saying.

He was still stuck on the information Thranduil had just found necessary to relay to him.

Thorin huffed wearily with a shake of his head.

This had to happen right before an important diplomatic meeting no less.

"You should know that I expect nothing from you." Thranduil drawled as he arose from the table, "Nor do I expect you to even claim this child as your own."

"Do not speak for me." Thorin barked slamming his hand down sharply.

The elf paused momentarily, his grey eyes narrowing in on the king of Erebor.

"We have known each other for years and years...and yet you do NOT actually 'know' me." He said icily.

"Though its conception was indeed not expected or intended...I will not turn away from my child."

"Our child." The blond corrected firmly.

Thorins lips twisted in aggravation as he relented.

"Our child." He repeated in regretful affirmation.

There was a heavy silence between them after that.

Neither of them looked at each other, both allowing the situation to sink in.

"Well."

"Well what?"

"You have a meeting to attend, do you not."

"Ah, yes...that." 

Thranduil smirked watching Thorin as he rose from his chair.

"I shall see myself out." The king of Mirkwood commented airily, taking in the dwarfs disheveled state.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Back to my Kingdom." The elf said slowly as though he were speaking to a child, "where else would I go?" 

"Will you not be staying in Erebor?" He questioned, "I had thought that because of the child you would-"

"-that I would what?" Thranduil scoffed cutting him off, "Stay here until I gave birth?"

Thorin shrugged as though it was the most obvious thing to have done.

The taller man blinked down at Thorin incrediously.

"Are you mad?" The elf said haughtily. 

"It would appear so." Thorin groused as he glared up at his fellow king.

"So you would keep me here trapped within these cold walls until I've whelped your get?" Thranduil chuckled.

"No, of course not." Thorin bit out, "I would welcome you here as an honored guest, and have you where I can be near...so that I may see to your wellness and that of my heir."

Thranduil stiffened at the harsh tone but remained unimpressed.

"Though enticing, I must politely refuse." The elf nodded his head curtly towards the King, then promptly turned and walked away.

"So thats it?" Thorin called out bitterly, "I assume you will send word when it's born?" 

Thranduil kept his stride choosing to ignore the King Under the Moutain.

"You sit before me and say you expect nothing from me? But what if infact I expect something from you?"

Thranduil stopped abruptly, but did not turn to face him.

"I have not had the privilege to be a father like you have."

"You have your sisters sons." He huffed clinching his fists.

He could hear Thorin steadily approaching him.

"It's not the same, and you know that."  
He countered.

"What exactly would you have me do?" Thranduil hissed turning around, "I have a Kingdom to rule! As do you!"

"Children have been born between kingdoms before."

"Yes well, the parents probably liked each other." The blonde sneered.

Thorin took one more step towards the elf, still allowing a comfortable distance between them.

"Perhaps we can come to an agreement?"

"Doubtful."

"Perhaps." Thorin chuckled.

Thranduil could see an eerie twinkle in the dwarfs eye. This was not going to be an enjoyable agreement.


	2. The Guest

3 weeks later

“I trust you are still in accordance with our terms?” Thranduil purred by way of greeting the dwarf into his palace.

“Would I be here if I wasn’t?” Thorin replied evenly.

Thranduil cocked his head to the side observing the dwarf, “No I suppose not.”

His grey eyes then drifted lazily over towards his guards who stood behind his guest.

“He is of no threat to me; I will show him to his rooms myself.” He said in a dismissive tone.

Thorin watched as the guards nodded backing away from the pair of them and retreated back to their posts outside.

“Come,” The king beckoned impatiently.

And it was then he noticed the king was several steps ahead of him already.

“Unless you would rather stay in the dungeons, which I know you are all too familiar with.”

Thorin grumbled under his breath in agitation, he must have been completely insane to have agreed to this...deal.

Or rather it was an arrangement of sorts, an ill-fated one if he had to speculate.

But it was simply this. 

Thorin would spend two months in Thranduils realm, and Thranduil would follow suit and spend two months in Erebor. 

The dwarf had actually argued to the fact that while he was now somewhere around three months gone, it would make sense to divide the remaining six months into three month increments at both Kingdoms.

Thorin could practically feel the cold off of the glare the elf had sent him. Apparently common sense held no sway to Thranduil, who held fast on the previous two and two.  
The King of Erebor would eventually comply with the King of Mirkwoods request in that the infant would be born here. This in turn would mean the return to the Woodland realm two months before the birth. 

If he were a lesser dwarf he could have continued to argue with the blond on the matter, but he eventually relented.

The King under the mountain could hardly object to the demand, because after all Thranduil was the one who would suffer the indignities of pregnancy and birth.

“If this arrangement does not suit his majesty, then you may expect a royal birth announcement in half a years’ time.” Thranduil droned.

Snapping out of his thoughts the dwarf realize Thranduil had stopped in front of a threshold and was looking down at him expectantly. 

Thorin kept an impassive mask as he walked by the blond elf and quietly into the room that was intended to be his.  
Thranduil watched as his guest looked around the grand chamber, simply nodding his head after fully scanning its interior.

“No, this will be just fine,” The dwarf stated gruffly as he turned to inspect a nearby writing desk, “when we return to Erebor I will make sure your rooms are just as accommodating.” 

The king of Mirkwood lips began twitch in distain. Why was Thorin being so agreeable?

So….compliant?

Thranduil didn’t believe the man before him was even capable of that particular quality, but seeing that there was now a child to dangle over his head….  
The elven king briefly mused at the prospect of perhaps using this unfortunate circumstance to torment the ill-tempered Lord. 

No, he thought bitterly watching as the smaller king continued to examine his chambers. Not even he could be so cruel as to do that.  
Thranduil hadn’t noticed the heavy sigh that escaped his lips until the dwarf turned to gaze up at him in thinly veiled concern. 

“Are you tired?” he asked taking a step towards him.

Thranduil rolled his eyes internally.

“No, simply lost in thought.”

“Are you sure you are sleeping well at night?” Thorin asked, “When my sister carried my nephews she became weary at all hours of the day.”

The question was innocent, though why it struck a nerve in Thranduil he had no idea as to why.

He tensed feeling the heat of his frustration creep under the collar of his silk robe, the feeling of being patronized tearing at his core.

“I sleep quite well, King under the mountain.” Thranduil replied in a clipped tone, “And as for being tired, much like that of your sister, I imagine it comes from carrying lowly dwarven spawn.”

Thorin was taken aback momentarily by the snide remark, what was wrong with a simple question?

Thranduil shook his head condescendingly. 

“They always have been draining little creatures.”

And with that he turned on his heel and left the fuming dwarf to stew in his anger and confusion. 

 

~Two Weeks Later~

 

Time passed slowly in the great halls of the Woodland Realm. 

Or at least for Thorin they did.

He had seen very little of Thranduil in the fortnight that he has been here, one would think the Lord was simply a wrath that haunted its corridors.  
He knew elves were notorious for being light on their feet, sometimes nearly undetectable.

But he knew better than that.

Or at least with this one he did.

Back in Erebor he would roam his own halls, and knew them very well mind you, so it would be of no surprise that the Elven King would know how best to avoid his guest.  
Thorin snorted irritably through his nose as he sat musing by the fire.

He avoided guests in the halls of his own Kingdom; it was no surprise that Thranduil was doing the same.  
Perhaps even spying on him from time to time this would be the most likely instance, seeing as how trust was less than nonexistent a few months ago. 

Thoughts were whirring throughout his mind so fast he had to pinch the bridge of his nose to steady himself.  
Why on Middle Earth did he truly think they could act like civilized adults?

Maybe part of him knew that they couldn’t, maybe the mere thought of a child that would bind them together painted a pretty picture in his mind.  
He had hated the elf with every fiber of his being at one time. 

The bastard could infuriate him quicker than anyone else he knew, and often he had fantasized about killing him, slowly, oh so slowly.  
Old rage welled up inside the Kings chest as he recalled how this traitor had let his Kingdom and his people burn.

Once more the old dwarf had to shake away those thoughts. It was all in the past now. All he truly needed to focus on now was the future of his unborn child. Never mind that it was currently growing inside his former enemy. 

And as for how he felt about Thranduil no that he was carrying his heir…well he wasn’t so sure what he felt exactly.

“Mahal, give me patience.” Thorin mumbled as the fireplace crackled in front of him, “I want to do right by this child.”


	3. Memories

Silence, that’s all he needed right now, to Just to be alone in the quiet comfort of his own chamber, enjoying his meal in peace.  
It was exhausting really. Ruling a realm and seeing to the well being of his people, especially after the battle that had taken place a few months ago.

So many lives lost, elf, human and dwarf alike…

The blond stared down at his food seemingly lost in thought. The memories of that day, and all the things that had happened since then, played over and over in his mind.  
Perhaps silence wasn’t what he needed. It allowed too much time to dwell, on certain things.

And certain someone’s in particular. 

If he were trying to be the bigger person here (Figuratively), he would not have spent the last week avoiding the dwarf.  
No he wasn’t avoiding Thorin. Kings did not avoid guests; he was simply allowing a comfortable distance between them.

Thranduil huffed and pushed his plate away in frustration.

Damn it, he WAS avoiding him.

As much as it bothered him to admit it, he honestly wanted to get a rise out of the dwarf somehow.Make him feel as though he truly were a guest here. Not the father of his child.  
Thranduil knew very well why Thorin wanted to come and stay here. He wanted to watch him suffer through all of this misery. Maybe even steal the child away from him once it was pushed from his body.

The king of Mirkwood gritted his teeth at the mere thought, and allowed a gentle hand to rest low on his abdomen.

“Let him try.” He murmured bitterly. 

Why did he even allow this to happen? To allow this idiot dwarf back into his life, after the events that had taken place.  
Of course it all began with the Gems of Lasgalen, Thrors arrogance and greed. Thorin did nothing to stop his grandfather’s misgivings. Then of course many years later after the dragon taken everything away from Thorin, Thranduil offered him his aid and goodwill, all in return for the Gems. 

And the bastard refused.

The battle was entirely, if not half of Thorins fault. Dragon sickness be damned. He is just as greedy as his father and father before him.  
The Durin line takes everything in their path and leaves it in ruins. Thorin was especially remarkable in that respect.

Thranduil sighed casting his gaze down towards his stomach where his hand rested. 

It was shameful really. How he had let it happen so easily, how he didn’t even put up a fight where Thorin was concerned.

He had roamed the halls after the battle, found his precious gems and had high expectation of making it out of Erebor unnoticed. The Valar always did have a great sense of humor. Thorin caught him practically red handed. Needless to say that is where the entire predicament began.

Heated words soon turned into petty insults. A fist was thrown, the gem dropped to the ground and the scuffling gave way to Thranduil wrapping his hands around Thorins throat.  
Then, almost out of thin air, came a rather unexpected kiss…

He still cannot remember who initiated it; he can only recall the stunned look on the other Kings face. But it didn’t last very long, it became savage after that. Armor was ripped off, clothes torn from their bodies, both fighting for dominance over one another. This wasn’t about Stones or Gems anymore. No more aimless quarrels about dragons and gold, this was more than all of that combined.

He fully intended to show Thorin what true power really was. 

And he did just that.

Thranduil ended up on top of Thorin, straddling him, using his height to his full advantage, he remembered pinning Thorins arms and-

The elven Lord licked his lips in satisfied reminiscence of it all.

No doubt it would remain to be one of his fondest memories. One he could sit by the fire at night and relish on as he sipped wine to his heart’s content.  
Thranduils satisfaction lasted briefly though, as a sour expression marred his pale face.

Some things just could not be forgotten.

Once they were both spent and gasping for breath, they became aware of the raw tension gripping the air around them.  
Thorin practically snarled as he pushed Thranduil off of him, and scrambled off of the stone floor gathering his clothes as he stood.

~“Consider that your payment.” He stated gruffly turning his back to Thranduil, has he began dressing.~

~“You cannot pay me with something, that was already mine,” He countered spitefully as he too rushed to gather his clothes, “and you should reward me very well, with all the elven blood you’ve spilled on this day!”~

Thorin allowed a rueful smirk to tug at his lips as he fished a silver coin from the pocked of his coat.

~“There,” he sneered flipping the coin in the blonds direction, “A whores payment, for watching Erebor burn.”~

 

Clinching his jaw, Thranduil twisted the fabric of his robe that was covering his stomach. 

“Filthy dwarven bastard.” He spat as he then heaved himself from the chair he was occupying to saunter over to his bed.

Thranduil sat down on the edge and placed his head in his hands. What was he to do now, send Thorin away? There was no way he could be rid of the damned dwarf now; the conniving little beast had seen to that when he struck a deal with him. Part of him wanted to believe that Thorin was truly there to see to him and the child he carried, but there was no way to be certain. Thorin had two other heirs to take the throne of Erebor, his nephews who were vicious little rapscallions in his opinion.

One of them had actually managed to steal his Captain of the guard away from him. This proved yet again, the line of Durin always got what they wanted, whenever they wanted, feelings, practicalities be damned. Sighing heavily he reclined back on the large bed, once more placing his hand over his middle.

“I suppose you will be the same way.” He murmured sarcastically.

As to be expected he received no answer in response. Thranduil smiled despite himself, and the foolishness of talking to a being that was barely in existence yet.

“I thought as much.”


	4. Avoidance

Another week had passed, another dull and rather lonely one, if Thorin was being completely honest. His time spent here seemed endless, especially without proper conversation other than the muttered ‘thank you’ to the beautiful she-elf who brought him his meals. Thorin could see why his nephew became so besotted with Tauriel, they truly were lovely. What with their long legs, flawless skin, blond hair, pale blue eyes….

Mahal, what was he doing? 

Daydreaming of elves now? 

Thorin shook his head attempting to clear his thoughts as he made his way down the vast corridors of the palace. He had long since given up the possibility that perhaps Thranduil would come to him, the Elf had made that fairly clear within the first three days of his absence. Now nearly a fortnight had passed since he came to say in Mirkwood, and he was left rather putout with this nonsense. It was no matter now. Thorin knew that waiting it out wouldn’t work either, if its one thing he and Thranduil had in common it was pride.

They simply waited for the other to break first, life worked around them and their time.

But was he giving in? Thorin did not want to dwell on whether or not this was all one big game for the other king.; to distance himself from Thorin, to watch him go mad within the own walls of his kingdom. There was no one for him to talk to, no dwarven comforts to ease his restlessness, and of course the food was terrible. Thorin could easily see why that would be appealing to Thranduil; honestly he’d be lying if he hadn’t considered doing the same to the blond out of sheer spite. 

Slowing his pace Thorin came to stand by a large wooden door, two guards stood on either side, both gazing down stoically at him.

“I wish to speak with Thranduil.” He announced evenly to the dark haired elf standing to his left.

“The king is occupied with dealings on the Realm,” The elf announced firmly, “he wishes to not be disturbed during this time.”

Thorin wasn’t particularly surprised at the refusal, but it wasn’t going to deter him whatsoever.

“Tell your King that his guest,” he stressed with a tilt of his head,” is requesting a word with him.”

“The king is occupied with dealings on-”

Thorin stopped him short with a wave of his hand before he could continue.

“If you don’t open this door,” He growled inching near the brunette, “I will kick it-AND your teeth in.”

As if on cue, both of the guards drew their swords, in silent warning. 

The King of Erebor scowled up at them and considered if being thrown in the dungeon had been Thranduils plan all along. If not, then this would be a wonderful bedtime story for his child one day, how he had to fight two elite elven guards, just to simply talk with its other father. Nevertheless, he was not leaving without talking to Thranduil, two blades pointing directly at his person be damned.

“THRANDUIL, I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!” he bellowed, “OPEN THIS DOOR!”

“Take your leave dwarf.” The one to his left hissed, “Or we will take you ourselves.” 

“Try it and you will lose those hairless b-“

Thorin was stopped short as the large wooden door swung open to reveal a very regal and very displeased King of Mirkwood.

“Enough.” He drawled from inside, the firelight behind him giving his black and red robes an almost evil flare.

“Whatever discrepancies you have, you may feel free to take them up with my guards.”

“I have no discrepancies,” Thorin snarled looking between the three elves, “I only expressed that I wished to talk privately with you.”

Thranduil raised an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes down at the dwarf. “I am sorry King under the mountain, but I am afraid I am otherwise engaged at the present time.”  
Thorin met the elven lords gaze refusing to back down.

“Liar.”

“Mind your tongue dwarf!” The elf to his right ordered sharply.

“Quite alright,” Thranduil muttered dryly, “He says he wishes to speak to me-then he may do so now.” 

Thorins shoulders slumped slightly in exasperation, but he decided to press on.

“As you wish,” He huffed, choosing to ignore the glint of the two steal blades, “I have come to inquire as to why you have been avoiding me.” 

It certainly wasn’t the place or time for such talk, especially in front of the guards, but if this was the best he was going to get then he damn sure wasn’t going to walk away from it. Thranduil himself didn’t seem fazed by the accusation; instead he appeared to be contemplating something as he took in the sight of the slightly disheveled dwarf. 

“Let him by,” he spoke after a moment of deep consideration, “but do not leave your posts.” He commanded arrogantly has he vanished back into the room.  
Thorin eyed the guards carefully as they lowered their weapons and allowed him to walk through the threshold. Though childish he made it point to slam the door behind him, somehow hoping that the noise would offer some reprieve for the mistreatment he had just received.

“Have you no decorum?” The elf gritted out as he sauntered over to sit in a large chair by the fireplace.

The dwarf snorted lightly, turning to finally face the man who had been scarcely seen in his time here. 

“The same could be asked of you.” He countered taking slow even steps towards the elf before choosing to continue, “Is this where you have been hiding?” Thorin asked gazing thoughtfully around the room.

It looked to be just a simple study, a writing desk, walls covered in books and chairs by the fire. He thought it to be particularly small compared to his own study back in Erebor, but considering the expanse of Mirkwood perhaps this was one of a few. 

“If ruling a Kingdom is called hiding then, yes,” The elf bit out sarcastically, “I have been hiding from you for the sake of my realm.”  
Thorins face remained passive, much to Thranduils disappointment he imagined. 

“May I join you?” Thorin asked gesturing to the chair beside of him.

Thranduil shot him a withering look, somehow hopeful that the man would leave him to sit by the firelight in peace. The dwarf remained unaffected as he carefully maneuvered himself to hop onto the chair beside the Lord.

“How are you faring?” Thorin asked awkwardly clasping his hands together.

Thranduil wrinkled his nose slightly at the question.

“Truly you have not come barking at my door, snarling at my guards like some vicious dog,” Thranduil scoffed throwing a careless hand in the air, “Just to simply ask how I ‘fare’.”

“No, I suppose you’re right.” Thorin agreed soberly, “I figured it best to ask that, rather than to ask again why you avoid me.”

“I am NOT avoiding you.” Thranduil replied tersely.

“Stop this nonsense, I beg of you.” Thorin pleaded leaning forward to look closer at the elf, “Two weeks I have been here, and this is the longest I’ve been in your presence.”

Thranduil ignored him, looking away from Thorin and into the flames that danced before them, his long white fingers furling around the arms of his chair. Thorin studied Thranduils profile thoughtfully for a moment before deciding it best to press on. If Thranduil chose to ignore him it mattered little now, he finally got his audience with the King, and he was going to hear him regardless.

“I know you have little cause to like me.” He spoke softly, “I am aware that me even being in your presence is difficult, but this was part of the agreement-”

Thorin was interrupted by the elf as he whirled around in his chair to face him, his nostrils flared in anger.

“-No Oakenshield it was not. A bargain was made between the pair of us so that you may be close by, lest something were to happen to me or the child.” He clarified harshly,  
“That was it. You are being far too presumptuous by thinking I must spend every last waking moment with you.”

“That is not why the arrangement was made and you know it!” Thorin accused jabbing a finger in Thranduils direction, “I want to be a part of its life! Is that too much to ask for?”

Thranduil frowned at Thorin, who was attempting to reign in his emotions.

“And as for spending every last moment with you, I’ll have you know that I am not so presumptuous to think that you do not have a Kingdom to rule, and duties to attend to.” Thorin stated clinching his fists tightly, “From one King to another, I DO understand that.”

Thranduil arched an arrogant eyebrow in mild disbelief but allowed the dwarf to continue in his rant.

“Do you not understand that I want to know how you are feeling?” he confessed looking Thranduil in the eye, “If something were to be causing you pain or sickness-I want to be able to help in any way that I possibly can.”

“You do not think I can take care of myself?” Thranduil snapped irritably.

“Yet again, that is NOT what I’m telling you!” Thorin growled throwing his hands in the air, “If you are affected by something, it directly affects my child!”

“No one knows better than me, how this child fares!” Thranduil spat as he heaved himself from his chair to glare down at Thorin, “Do you think I idly walk around these past moons with no thought of this child? Did it not occur to you that perhaps I have healers at hand to tell me how the child is ‘affected’-as you so articulately stated.”

Frowning slightly Thorin eyed the elf up and down with much consideration before huffing in bitter amusement. 

“When was the last time the healers tended to you?” he questioned softly.

Thranduil frowned slightly with a small shake of his head, “Not but three days ago, why?”

“So you did not consider that perhaps I would like to know?” Thorin said dejectedly as he slid out of the chair.

“I do not need you hovering about when the healers are there.” Thranduil said flippantly, “You are already in the way enough as it is.” 

The king of Mirkwood said nothing as he watched the dwarf make his way silently to the door that he tried so hard to enter only minutes before. Thorin placed his hand on the door, then without warning turned his head to meet Thranduils eye once more.

“Then why am I here?”


	5. The Dinner Part 1

Forgiveness was not in his nature.

Never was, never had been, never will be.

Thranduil found no shame in that, and he was truly indifferent on the matter, especially when it came to forgiving certain people.

Or certain dwarves…

Nevertheless, he supposed that instead of forgiving Thorin, he could in fact ‘overlook’ the rather egregious actions that took place upon the conception of the child.  
He could do that, he was almost certain of it. Make no mistake though; he was only doing it now for the sake of the babe that would be making its arrival in the summer.

Thranduil was most certainly not feeling remorseful over his actions towards the dwarf from the previous week though. Had he not been the one carrying the child he would have reveled in the glory of watching Oakenshield being so miserable over it all. But the fact remained was that he indeed WAS carrying Thorins child, and he had somehow managed to hurt Thorin in a way he did not think possible.

So if he were being forthright with himself , Thranduil was feeling the faintest hint of pity for the aging King. Thorin had no wife, no children, save his sister’s sons. Of whom he was almost certain that in several years’ time would in turn marry and have children of their own, all while Thorin sat upon the throne, an old dwarf with no legacy other than his nephews. Would they care for him? Or would they be too busy with their own families to stop and take notice? 

Thranduil recalled when his own wife had died; he still remembers cleaving to the knowledge that Legolas was still around, still his to cherish. Legolas had been the only relief that Thranduil knew after his wife had passed, if it were not for him-he probably would have faded away. Thranduil became all too aware of what he was feeling now and pursed his lips in annoyance as he sat upon his throne.Fine, perhaps he had been a little too harsh where Thorin and the child were concerned-but everything else was completely and undeniably Thorins own fault. 

Thranduil gripped the arms of his throne and stood, his pale blue robes billowing behind him as he elegantly made his way down the staircase.Still as aggravated as he was with Thorin, the thought of another child made him feel rather warm inside. Fond memories allowed a small smile to tug at his lips as he remembered his son as a child with his round rosy cheeks and tiny fingers. All of the wonderful and joyous memories he has of his son, and Thorin had none of that. It was always a competition between them, and yet Thranduil just couldn’t bring himself to be boisterous over Thorins lack of parenthood. The King of Mirkwood toyed with the possibility that had Thrors greed not attracted a Dragon, Thorin would have been a husband and father at some point.

He hadn’t considered how much time had passed since then, and how Thorin was so fixated with reclaiming Erebor to bother with a wife and child. Elves needn’t worry about such matters; they could marry and have children at their own leisure, time was no concern. Was he limiting Thorin because of this? He could not be certain what he was doing anymore. There was a child in the balance now, and the pair of them would not allow bygones to be bygones. Overlooking past actions seemed to be his best bet, to begin the foundation of a somewhat civilized truce with one another.

After all, and alliance is exactly what this child would bring for Mirkwood and Erebor.

Thranduil began chewing his lip in contemplation as he continued down the path towards his bed chambers.  
He knew damn good and well what was to be done now; he had to attempt to make amends with Thorin. Though how would he go about it without the dwarf suspecting the underlying guilt over his actions…well he wasn’t so sure. 

One’s own pride could be a very fickle thing. 

~Later that evening~

Figuring out Thorins pattern, or routine rather, had been simple enough. He awoke early and took his breakfast in his room, then walked through the gardens. Then after that he would often find his way to the great library, where he would read for a couple hours to simply make the time pass. Lunch again was taken in his quarters, and often he stayed there for lack of better things to do. To end Thorins night, his dinner was served in the grand dining room, where he often ate alone at the opposite end of the table.

Thranduil, though not at all excited at the prospect, decided it was finally time to break the dwarfs mundane routine. He didn’t necessarily have to ‘like’ Thorin, but he would strive to stop avoiding him as he so delicately put.

Fine, he could do that. 

So with the child’s best interest at mind, the King of Mirkwood now sat at the head of his table, patiently waiting for Thorin to arrive. Several minutes passed in silence, before the heavy familiar footfalls of the dwarf could be distinguished as he drew near. 

Thranduil did a quick once over of the table, making sure the appropriate dining ware and utensils were set out properly for the meal. Not that he needed to impress Thorin; it was simple etiquette when dining with another ruler….Even if it was a lowly dwarven lord. As Thorin entered the room, he became increasingly aware of how difficult it was going to be at making civil and polite conversation after last week’s incident. Thorin slowed his gait as he saw the lithe blond elf sitting at the table before him, his pale face neutral and eyes glittering as he regarded him.

Thranduil tilted his head in curiosity as the King of Erebor made it a point to avoid eye contact, awkwardly clinching his fists at his sides from where he stood.

“Apologies,” Thorin said gruffly, his posture becoming ridged, “I was not aware you were entertaining tonight…I’ll just take my meal in my room.” 

Thranduil couldn’t help but roll his eyes once the dwarf turned his back to him as he attempted to make a fairly quick exit from the room. Oh the fun he could have watching this little beast writhe and cower before him.

He then scowled, thinking of how the child was already ruining all the enjoyment he could partake in watching Thorin lick his wounds like a kicked pup.

“Will you not join me?” he drawled nonchalantly, stretching his long legs out before him.

The other king paused by the archway, his head turning slowly back towards the elven lord sitting casually at the elongated table. Thranduil met his gaze expectantly, still electing to maintain a civilized front while in Oakenshields presence. Looking bewildered for a moment, Thorin hastily checked behind him to see if in fact Thranduil had been talking to him or someone else.

“Are you speaking to me?” he asked gesturing lamely at his person.

‘Oh for the love of the Valar.’ Thranduil thought impatiently, his foot twitching the barest hint in agitation.

“Of course I’m speaking to you.” The blond replied curtly with a tilt of his head, “Do you see anyone else in this room?”

Thorin in turn tilted his head, as he took a cautious step back towards the elf.

“Forgive me; I was not aware we were even on speaking terms as of late.”

“Whatever gave you that impression? I have always spoken to you.” He countered tightly, watching as Thorin gave him an amused look.

“Indeed,” Thorin scoffed lightly folding his arms across his chest, “When you are not running from me.”

A thousand bitter insults came to mind as Thorin then raised a challenging brow at him, and yet somehow, the King of Mirkwood swallowed them all with a rueful shake of his  
head.

“I have not come here to argue with you.”

“Come here?” Thorin repeated in suspicion, lowering his arms, “So you planned on dining with me all along?”

Thorins mask of arrogance dropped quickly as he studied Thranduil, who was masking (rather poorly) his irritability.

“Are you sure you can stand to be in my presence?” Thorin joked harshly, “After all this wasn’t in the agreement- I’m sure you can attest to that.”


	6. The Dinner Part 2

“Will you join me or not!” Thranduil snapped bringing his hand down on the table sharply, “It may not seem like it to you, but I am endeavoring to pursue some kind of civility here, so if you could please just oblige me for once.” 

Thorins eyes widened slightly as Thranduil exhaled in resign and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. Almost at loss for words (for once) Thorin stood there awkwardly for a moment watching the elf soothe his nerves with closed eyes and long blond hair falling about his shoulders. Half curious, half cautious, Thorin slowly made his way to sit at the opposite end of the table where an empty plate and goblet awaited him.Once he hoisted his bulk onto the chair, Thorin clasped his hands before him, and looked directly over at the disgruntled elf.

“Yet again, I believe an apology is in order” Thorin spoke; somehow hoping Thranduil would open his eyes and look at him. He didn’t recall a time he had the pleasure to see the King of the Woodland Realm so exacerbated, that the only thing he could do was sit there and gather his wits.

“I shouldn’t have spoken the way I did, it was discourteous-and it is not how I would allow my child to act towards another.”

“Our child,” Thranduil corrected wearily, though now his hand had moved from the bridge of his nose to now his left temple, “and I must agree with you on that…for a change.”

Thorin smiled faintly over at the elf, who had now opened his eyes to stare back at him in mild amusement.

“I suppose it is now my turn to apologize?” He murmured raising an eyebrow. 

“If you like,” Thorin commented causally reaching out and taking his goblet, “It matters not to me, I had assumed that’s why you invited me to dine with you.”

Thranduil snorted lightly still massaging his temple, “Can a meal be considered an apology?”

“Depends on the meal,” Thorin supplied eyeing him knowingly, “Which is?”

“Greens, of course.” He replied with a knowing smirk.

Thorin hummed in thoughtfully taking a sip of his wine, “Then consider your apology not accepted.” 

The elf rolled his eyes halfheartedly, “I thought as much.” 

They sat in relatively comfortable silence before the food was brought out, much to Thorins displeasure as he eyed the many leafy greens that were scattered among the dishes.

“You don’t have to do this you know.” 

“Do what exactly?” 

“Share your meal with me.” Thorin clarified as one of the servants spooned a rather questionable amount green stuff on his plate, “We haven’t been on the best of terms as of late-please do not take that as me being ungrateful, mind you.”

Thranduil waited on the she elf to fill his plate then take her leave before responding, he didn’t want the palace drowning in more gossip than what was necessary.

“No, you’re right we have not.” He agreed, stabbing into the mixed leafy greens before him, “But when have we ever?”

They sat quietly for a moment, Thranduil actually eating his meal, while Thorin seemed to be mulling something over in his mind.

“If this is because of our argument, you should know I do not want you to feel forced into this.” Thorin said softly, though his face was twisted in disgust has a piece of spinach fell   
from his fork.

“This should not be about us.” The elf said hiding a thin smile at Thorins expense, “I now realize that I may have acted unjustly towards you.”

Stunned Thorin looked up at Thranduil from the fork he was about to force in his mouth. The King of Mirkwood quickly realized his mistake, and returned the dwarfs dumbfound gaze with stern eyes and a furrowed brow.

“Strictly in regards to you being a part of the gestation, and the eventual birth of my child.”

“Our child.” Thorin intoned soberly.

Shooting him an impressed look, Thranduil brought his own goblet to his lips. Pale blue eyes scrutinized Thorin from over the rim with much deliberation. The pair of them, though unspoken, decided it was best leave the conversation there. After all that was said was said, and at the end of the day -no matter how much they still resented one another, keeping it civilized was best for the babe. 

“You are not eating.”

“I have eaten my fill, thank you.” Thorin fibbed pushing his plate away. 

Thranduil gave him a skeptical glance, watching as he leaned back against the chair, crossing his arms casually over his chest.

“I can’t have you starve while you are here King under the mountain.” The elf sighed pushing his now empty plate away, “It would not do to have your nephews collect your withered body.”

Thorin shook his head with an amused snort, “I’m hardly starved, when ones truly hungry, anything is appealing…even if it’s foliage.” 

Thranduil pursed his lips at the comment, finding it hard to believe Thorin had ever even tried to eat a vegetable in his life.

“Surely the child needs more than lettuce to grow properly.” Thorin mused cocking his head to the side.

“Contrary to popular belief- there is plenty more than just lettuce to eat when choosing not to dine upon the flesh of a dead animal.” he drawled after taking a sip of his water, “and as far as the little ones development, I can assure you they are growing in accordance.”

Thorin chuckled softly, his dark eyes now roaming over Thranduils lithe figure as he sat directly before him. The elven Lord fixed him with an expectant stare, knowing that Thorin was more than likely criticizing him for the lack of meat in his diet.

“You are four moons past, am I correct?” Thorin asked abruptly.

Thranduil reclined back in his chair, uncrossing his legs and leaning his head thoughtfully on his hand as he observed the dwarf.

“Do not tell me you are questioning the babes parentage now.” Thranduil replied mockingly. 

“Oh are we making jokes now?” Thorin snorted lightly, “Am I correct though?”

“Yes, King under the Mountain.” He said with only the faintest bit of exasperation in his tone, “Indeed you are correct.”

Thranduil watched as Thorin nodded his head silently, his dark blue eyes drifting off in deep contemplation. The King of Mirkwood shifted slightly in his chair, the lull in the conversation making him a tad bit uncomfortable.

“The healers wish to see me once a month,” He supplied deciding to rise from his chair.

Thorins eyes snapped up in mild surprise watching as the blond rose from the seat across from him and began to slowly walk towards him.

“If it would please you, then you may accompany me.” He said now standing before Thorin.

Thranduil became increasingly aware at how Thorin was staring at him in such wonder. He didn’t like it; it was too raw, too emotional for his tastes. It was almost as though he were bestowing one of the greatest gifts on the dwarf (of which he was) but a simple healer’s visit didn’t seem all that spectacular. Perhaps he had underestimated how much this entire pregnancy meant to Thorin, how much the dwarf truly wanted to be a part of the infants’ life, before it ever even began. 

“Yes, I would like that very much.” Thorin murmured still dumbfounded.

Thranduil tipped his head in acknowledgement, his long blond hair falling forward slightly from the motion.

The King of Erebor hastily slipped from his seat, and dutifully came to stand before the tall blond in front of him

“Dine with me tomorrow?” Thranduil asked as he carefully regarded the dwarf in front of him, “Unless you are otherwise engaged?”

Thorin nodded his head slowly, still not quite sure if this was all just some ridiculous dream where the pair of them were finally making headway. 

“No- I have no such plans.”

“Good.” He smiled faintly, “If you may excuse me-I am afraid I am feeling rather fatigued.” Thranduil murmured silkily, drawing his robe closer around his shoulders, “I think I shall   
retire for the night.”

Thorin inclined his head in agreement and gestured for Thranduil to walk with him to the archway of the dining hall.

“I will see you on the morrow then.” 

Thranduil s eyes flitted over at the shorter man as they parted ways out in the hall. “Until then, King under the mountain.”


	7. Healers

“You needn’t look so nervous,” Thranduil droned from his position on the edge of his bed, “I’m the one who will be poked and prodded here, not you.”

The healer, a flaxen blonde she-elf named Savellah-flitted around Thranduil gracefully, placing healing stones and herbs on the bedside table neatly.  
Thorin straightened slightly in the chair across from the two elves and clasped his hands together as disguise his fidgeting fingers.

“Right…” he said lamely.

He wasn’t nervous, well at least he didn’t think he was. If anything he was practically thrumming with excitement, over what he wasn’t sure though. Perhaps it was the notion that with each passing day everything was becoming more real to him where the child was concerned. Thranduil hardly seemed fazed by it though, but maybe it was quite different for ones who carried the child. 

“Please remove your robes your grace, then lie back on the bed and we shall begin.”

Doing as instructed the King of Mirkwood gently shrugged out of his deep maroon robes, and sat them at the foot of the bed. Savellah, much to Thranduils chagrin placed her hand on his shoulder to steady him as he reclined to lie flat on his back. 

Thorin watched with a scrutinizing gaze as she then reached down and lifted up the hem of his black tunic exposing his midriff to the coolness of the room.  
Thranduil shifted slightly and placed his arm underneath his head to allow himself a better view of what she was doing.  
Taking both hands she placed them on his lower abdomen and began gently palpitating across the expanse of the area. Her eyes were wandering around the room as she did so, almost as if calculating something in her mind.

“Four moons and nearly a half,” She clarified in a faraway voice, “The child is a tad small at the moment, but there is plenty of time left to make up for that.” Savellah said rubbing a soothing hand over his stomach before pulling away.

“Is he eating enough?” Thorin asked in concern as he watched her place the healing stones on his hip bones and along his pelvis.

Thorin pointedly ignored the cold glare Thranduil was sending him, as the healer turned her head slightly in his direction.

“Do you have any reason to believe his majesty isn’t?” Savellah questioned with a raised brow.

“Well…shouldn’t he be rounder?”

“Rounder?” She echoed back in confusion then watched as Thorin then made a vague gesture to Thranduils exposed stomach. 

Thranduil rolled his eyes haughtily and began muttering something heated to her in elvish, her eyes fliting back and forth between the two Kings in muted humor. It was sweet realizing that Thorin was nothing more than a concerned first time father. 

“His grace is quite tall, my lord.” Savellah stated kindly as she turned around to face a rather disgruntled Thorin, “There is plenty more room for the babe to dwell before it begins to make an outward appearance.”

Well he supposed that made sense…and if he did look closer at the other king, he noted that his lower belly did have somewhat of a curve to it now. 

“Your majesty the stones will need to stay for an hour,” the healer intoned as she slightly readjusted one on his left hip, “I shall take my leave presently and when I return I shall have the necessary oils ready.”

“Yes, thank you Savellah.” Thranduil nodded politely.

Both kings watched as she gathered the remaining items into her bag before stopping at the threshold of the door and bowing slightly at the waist.

“Your majesties.” 

Once Thorin watched her exit out the door he fixed Thranduil with a more than dubious look. 

“So….you trust her?”

“I beg your pardon?” Thranduil drawled cutting his sharp eyes over to the dwarf across from him, “Do you think I shouldn’t trust her?”

Thorin returned the gaze firmly and leaned forward in his chair as he did so.

“She just said the babe was small, and that it had nothing to do with your eating habits.”

“If you have a point to make I suggest you get to it already,” Thranduil sighed irritably using the arm that wasn’t propping his head up to rub his temple lightly.

“My point is, is that the child needs proper nourishment.”

“I eat enough.” Thranduil snapped.

Sensing the oncoming of a tantrum Thorin chose his next words very carefully.

“I know you do. I’ve seen you eat enough greens in one sitting to feed a pasture of ponies for a good week. What I’m saying though, very inarticulately as you so often put it, is   
perhaps maybe you’re not eating enough of what you really need.”

“And what pray tell do I really need healer Oakenshield.” Thranduil scoffed sarcastically, though placated somewhat. 

“Heartier foods, like Rabbit, stag, elk-” he slowed his words when the icy glare returned, “-ehrm… potatoes, carrots, root vegetables you know? Breads…”

“While your concern is what some may call endearing, I believe me and the child are faring just fine on the diet we are on.”

“Does it being small not concern you?”

“Of course it concerns me.” Thranduil concedes with a tired sigh, “But you yourself are also small, so perhaps it is genetic?” he didn’t mean it as a jab; he was simply being forthright with Thorin.

It didn’t seem to bother the king under the mountain as he shook his head ruefully.

“Dwarves are not terribly small at birth as so many people are lead to believe.” 

Thranduil hummed in response and glanced down at his midsection in mild contemplation. Thorin of course followed his gaze and smirked somewhat to himself.

“We leave for Erebor soon, week and a half to be exact.” 

“As if you would let me forget.” Thranduil deadpanned not bothering to stop observing his abdomen. 

“Care to place a wager.”

“On what?” 

“That you will grow fat in Erebor.” Thorin stated in a matter of fact tone.

Thranduil paused for a moment then smoothed a long pale and down his belly. “You believe so Oakenshield?” he challenged with a coy smirk on his lips.

“I know so.”

“Well far be it from me to challenge such wisdom as yours.”

Thorin scoffed at the caustic reply and fixed the taller man with a rather pointed glare. 

“You can live on vegetables in Erebor, we’ve only got five or six kinds you can choose from and I guarantee it’ll get the babe growing right as it should be.” 

Tilting his blond head Thranduil blinked over at Thorin with a raised brow, “Truly?” he purred with every drop of sarcasm he could muster. 

“Indeed.” Thorin replied in all seriousness, “Though I would prefer if you would at least try to consume some meat.”

“We shall see, King under the Mountain.”

Much to Thorins astonishment, Thranduil was not giving him the cruel and annoyed look he had expected, but a rather amused one, his lips holding just a mere ghost of a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah its been a minute! Hopefully I can get this thing rolling again!


End file.
